Just a Single Wave
by ChocoPrep
Summary: Because I'm used to it.Because that's just the way things are,because I suppose that's how it's simply meant to be.I'm in love with Massie Jillian Block, friend to every human being. But I'm just a single wave among a storm of lovers." 2-shot. HIATUS


**Disclaimer: L.O.T.S (My made-up acronym for **_**L**_**isi **_**O**_**wns **_**T**_**he **_**S**_**eries)**

**AN: I hope you like it. It's my first shot that's supposed to be drabble. BTW, the paragraphs are gonna get longer and longer.**

Because I've accepted it already.

Because I'm used to it.

Because. Because. Because.

I see her all the time in the hallways; waltzing down the hall with a blonde on her right and a redhead on her left, smiling at everyone she passes with that no-need-for-braces smile. That look in her eyes that tells you she can outshine the sun _any_ day. She waves at every guys and gals. You'd think her wrist would get tired of something, but it's obviously just built for that buoyant purpose. She sees everyone in the hallway, but her expression holds nothing close for them. It's just a simple look on a human face.

But when she sees one person, I can't help but notice that little extra vigor in her waving palm. That little curvature of her rosy lips.

-3-

I see her in the lunch room, sitting with Derrick and his crew; offering Dylan her chocolate and asking others about how they're doing, even though she could fill up the whole day with her vivacious afternoon. She is self-less, but not boring. She leans forward in her seat just so you can tell that _yes_, _she's listening_ and _yes, she can't wait for you to tell her_. That little inch in her seat and bob of encouragement shows everyone the pure _goodness_ she builds inside. Every story, even if it's just "like", "and yeah", and "OMG, right?"

Besides that, she's also one of the few people—or girls that actually bothers to eat. Not anorexic like a few others I could definitely mention (Alicia), but not stuffing her face with fat (Dylan). She also knows the rule about _not _talking while you're eating (Dylan—learn from your friend, please) She inclines in the little plastic chair and nods receptively, but it's nothing new. It's almost like a routine, a natural reaction.

But when one mouth opens and says "Hey…" I can't help but observe that little extra centimeter and diminutive nervous fidget as she blushes.

-3-

I see her in the classroom, being the perfect combination of "straight-A student" and "fun classmate"; raising her delicate hand, answering the question and saying a joke at the same time. Everyone laughs, but it's always _with_ her, never _at _her. Of course. Who would dare? If one kid doesn't get it—hell, she'll stay for hours just to make sure everything's clearer than her flawless skin. She makes even the moodiest person crack up to tears. Trust me; I've even witnessed a Griffin Hastings laughing with his hand pressed to his stomach as she makes her way back to her seat.  
She is immensely popular, but she's not vicious the way Claire is. She doesn't have a trace of _slut_ in her the way Alicia does. She can understand all the guys without acting 100% like them, unlike Dylan. She can do anything and beat anyone, even by accident. She's pleasant to every soul in school and polite to every teacher. Damn favoritism, they have no choice. It's a landslide.

But when one person is down, or that one person just _doesn't understand_, it seems that no one but me sees that quick bolt in her figure as she rapidly scoots her chair back so that she can help that person.

-3-

I see her at homecoming, dancing her rounded ass off. She's the homecoming queen, of course. It was never doubted. The total tallies might as well have been a hundred to one, but you'd never see anyone more humble and modest. The speech she made was barely about her and accepting the crown; it was more about us, the student body. Self-less.  
She takes a break off the dance floor for a while, gasping to her friend Skye as she respectfully laughs that she'll drop dead on the ground if she doesn't have a break. Skye's grin broadens as she tells her that she is the absolute _best_ dancer in the whole country, even though everyone knows that she's been winning dance-offs since she slipped on her first ballet slippers. She shows the shifting, uncomfortable freshmen the refreshments. She points to one silver tray in particular and explains a little more. _Home-made_, I hear her joke, _don't expect anything that great_. She tries to dance with everyone, horsing around with her girls and throwing her arms around an unsuspecting guy. She drags each one out onto the floor as the smiles automatically break out onto their formerly-sulking faces. She's the queen, and queens always take care of their guests.

But I can't help but witness that little glimmer in her eyes when she spots the next lucky guy waiting to dance with her. And shit, I think the DJ just turned it to a slow dance.

-3-3-

I'm in love with Massie Jillian Block, friend to every human being. But I'm just a small drift among an ocean—no, _storm_ of lovers.

I'm not a pervert. Really, you can ask anyone. But it's easy to see just how faultlessly her lavender dress compliments her, from the silk halter to the slit that goes up to her knees. Heck, she could model a paper bag and everyone would be wearing it within 24 hours. It's a total cliché, but it's true.

But I have to focus on the now. And "now" tells me that she's making her way halfway across the floor to none other than my best friend, Derrick Anthony Harrington. It's like they have two single pools of light from heaven, following every footstep as she walks to him—oh wait, that's just Layne Abeley and Allie Rose fooling with the spotlights.

Massie doesn't take a single glance in my direction as she passes—but then again, why would she? She beams, she waves, she nods, she assists, she heartens, but she doesn't love. Not the way I want her to. Not the way I wish she did. But it's okay.

Because I've accepted it already.

Because I'm used to it.

Because that's just the way things are, because I suppose that's how it's meant to be.

Because I'm only Chris. Chris Plovert, a single yearning wave among a sea of hopeless, unrequited love.

**AN: Done. This is actually quite short. Barely reaching the thousand-words mark. Why I wrote this? Probably because I have a bad case of love—the **_**unrequited**_** kind—right now. This might be a four-shot. It all depends on the feedback, a.k.a **_**reviews**_**. So please tell me what you thought, even if it's just **_**S-N-O-O-Z-E-R!**_** Sil vous plait!**

**~Chocó prep a.k.a KLU**


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